Elementals I: The Power of Five
by Alexannah
Summary: - ON HIATUS -
1. Finding the Elements

_**Summary**_ One minute Harry's completely normal, the next he's grown a tree in his aunt's house. But he's not the only one experiencing unnatural magical abilities: Minerva's burnt her work to a crisp, Hermione's flooded her bathroom, Snape's created a mini tornado in the Great Hall and Albus is turning the sun on and off as easily as if it were a Muggle light switch. All of this is happening after Voldemort's return … Could the answer lie with the Founders, and can it be used to fight?

_**Rating**_ PG, but the rating will go up in the rest of the series

_**Warnings**_ Future Slash, future M-Preg, Other Sensitive Topic

_**Disclaimer**_ JKR owns the basis of the characters BUT I own the idea for the Elementals … ish. It was inspired a cartoon that my brother's recently become obsessed with. Only they're called something else and don't have Light – that's my invention. I guess I'm just obsessed with the number 5. I please ask that no-one takes the idea behind the Elementals as I may find a use for it in a future fantasy novel. Oh, can I also point out that JKR was the one to put an element to each of the Founders, not me. See author's notes below.

_**Author's Notes**_ According to Wikipedia (excellent site), each of the Founders represents one of the four elements. Before I read up on this I had already assigned powers to my characters and wanted to stick with them after I found out I had Air and Water the wrong way around, which is the reason some people may find it strange that I made Snape Ravenclaw's descendant and Hermione Slytherin's, instead of the other way around. But Water just seemed to fit Hermione better. (_shrugs_)  
Also, in case you didn't see it in the summary, the ships are Harry/Ron, Albus/Minerva and young!Severus/Hermione. Lastly, the fic is post-GoF but with some OotP elements (pun not intended).

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**The Elementals I: The Power of Five**

By Alexannah

**Chapter One: Finding the Elements**

"Oh no, not AGAIN!"

Albus ventured apprehensively into Minerva's office, sniffing gingerly. "Is that smoke?"

Minerva looked up from her desk, frustration and confusion all over her face.

"I don't understand, Albus. Look at this! My office is a mess! And I don't know how on earth it happened!"

Albus looked around, bewildered. Charred paperwork was scattered all over the place, and some pieces on the ground were still smoking. One was still curling into flames.

"I don't know how I did it!" Minerva moaned, hurrying round her desk to stamp out the fire. "All I did was think how I wish I didn't have so much work, and it just burst into flames!"

"It's your fiery temper, my dear," Albus half-joked, gathering up the ruined forms on her desk. "When was the last time you lost control of your magic?"

"Yesterday," she replied rather sheepishly.

"What happened?"

"I …"

"Minerva?"

"I killed Mrs Norris," she mumbled.

"What?"

"Argus will never speak to me again."

"How did it happen?"

"_I_ don't know! She just -"

"What?"

"Um … burst into flames?"

"Like your paperwork?"

"Yes. Only my paperwork wasn't clawing me half to death at the time."

Albus began to chuckle but stopped short when she glared at him.

"What's happening to me, Albus? I know it's been a stressful year but I've never heard of _this_ happening to anyone. At this rate I won't be able to leave my rooms in case I hurt someone."

"Don't be ridiculous," Albus chided, pulling her into a hug. "I'm sure it's just a hiccup in your magic – it happens to everyone occasionally. It'll probably be back to normal soon."

Minerva pushed him away. "And if it isn't? What do I do? Burn all the students once term starts again? Or will they have closed down Hogwarts by then because I destroyed the castle?"

"Minerva! Stop being so pessimistic!"

"Albus, I'm serious. I don't want to do anyone any harm – except Riddle, but that's irrelevant – and Fudge too – but I don't want to hurt any of my students or anyone I work with. I need to stop this from happening."

Albus sighed. "And how do you propose doing it?"

"I don't _know_. You're the resident genius; I was hoping you would have something up your sleeves."

His mouth twitched. "Resident genius? I'm flattered."

"Albus!"

"All right," he added hurriedly. "Maybe you could try meditation, or yoga or something."

"Medi-what?"

"Muggle things. I've heard they work – well, not miracles exactly, but they're supposed to be good. They will help you relax and get your powers back under control."

Minerva sighed. "And if that doesn't work?"

"One bridge at a time."

-----

"There must be _something_ you want me to do," Hermione said desperately, following her mother out of the kitchen. "Maybe run an errand?"

Mrs Granger dropped the pile of underwear on the chair. "Hermione, I appreciate your wanting to help sweetheart, but this is _your_ holiday. You only come home once a year. Enjoy it!"

"I can't," Hermione mumbled, watching her mother for a minute before turning and heading upstairs.

What could she do? She'd finished all her homework within a few days of the term ending. She'd helped her parents out endlessly: washing up, cooking meals, doing the laundry, tidying her room three times a day, until they'd put their foot down and refused to let her help anymore. So now Hermione was left to dwell on the end of last year.

She curled up in a corner of the bathroom, her legs pulled up to her chest, trying not to let the tears spill as the repressed feelings of hurt and betrayal and grief and dread overcame her. She hadn't let herself think about the Third Task since the night it had happened, and now she had nothing to distract her from the cold truth.

Hermione cried.

-----

Minerva was standing in blackness. There was an orangish glow ahead of her, just out of reach. Something was pulling at her to touch it. She reached out her hand …

"OUCH!"

Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright, jerked sharply out of her meditation. Albus was hopping up and down – his robes singed badly.

"Ow, ow, ow. Water!"

Minerva scrambled to her feet, grabbed her wand and shot a jet of water at him. Albus sighed.

"That's better. Ouch. Sore though." Nursing his burnt hands, he looked up in astonishment at her.

"Maybe you were right," he admitted. "This isn't normal."

"I told you," Minerva huffed. Smoke literally furled from her nostrils and Albus took a step back.

"Not related to any dragons, are you?"

"Albus."

"Sorry. All right. Where do we go from here?"

Minerva shrugged. "I don't know, Albus. Maybe I should just resign. I can't put the students in danger."

Albus shook his head. "There has to be a reason for this, this is not just your magic acting up." He paused. "Did you connect?"

"Pardon?"

"With your magic. I've heard that when wizards meditate they can actually see their magic in front or around them."

"I think so. I touched it – that was when you got burnt."

"What did it look like?"

"Orange, why?"

Albus shook his head. "A wizard's magical core is either white or dark depending on whether they use it for the Dark Arts or not. It's never orange, as far as I'm aware."

"Well it _was_ with me."

"I'm not saying it wasn't! I think we should do a bit of research – see if anything like this has ever happened before … and it might be an idea to make sure it's not happening to anyone else as well …"

-----

Severus was not a calm man, but he had never lost complete control over his magic before. The first time he banged his fist on his desk, a gust of wind from nowhere blew his papers everywhere. Later than day, he was fuming after an argument with Flitwick and succeeded in extinguishing every candle in the Great Hall. Then to top it off, he tripped and could have sustained a serious injury falling down the stairs but there was a _whoosh_ and there he was, back on his feet.

It was ridiculous.

-----

The day was much too hot for Harry's liking. He grinded his teeth as he pushed the lawn mower across the grass for the twelfth time that day. It was surprising he hadn't got a letter from the Ministry yet. If he did he would probably blow a fuse and curse it into oblivion. It was _not_ his fault that the grass insisted on sprouting three inches every time he walked over it.

Reaching the hedge, he switched the stupid thing off and turned round. His newly-discovered green fingers had definitely come in useful when doing the flower beds – even Aunt Petunia had said she loved what he had done with the rose bushes – but now it was becoming a nuisance. He groaned as he saw the grass was now taller than it had been before he'd started.

Harry kicked a watering can in frustration. That was going to have to do, he couldn't stand this heat anymore. Five minutes later he had haphazardly packed away the tools and made for the blissfully cool kitchen.

He poured out a glass of iced water and sat back in the living-room, staring unseeingly at the window-sill. A set of expensive ornaments and a potted plant were lined up together. Harry tried to remember what the flower was called – aster, that was it.

The Dursleys weren't around. Harry glanced furtively around before standing up. Something was funny with his magic, that he was sure of. If it worked accidentally, maybe it could work deliberately. Harry shakily held his hands out over the dropping plant and willed it to grow.

Not a good idea.

**TBC …**

**AN:** So, what do you think so far? I've been working on this series for months. There's going to be five in the series.


	2. Fatal Leaves

**_Summary:_**_ One minute Harry's completely normal, the next he's grown a tree in his aunt's house. But he's not the only one experiencing unnatural magical abilities: Minerva's burnt her work to a crisp, Hermione's flooded her bathroom, Snape's created a mini tornado in the Great Hall and Albus is turning the sun on and off as easily as if it were a Muggle light switch. All of this is happening after Voldemort's return … Could the answer lie with the Founders, and can it be used to fight?_

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter

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**Chapter Two: Fatal Leaves  
**  
A sun was beating down, its rays infiltrating the leaves above. The sound of gentle lapping came from the edge of the lake, or lagoon. A woman, brown-haired, pale-skinned, lay with her eyes closed on the crisp green grass, a hand lazily trailing the cover of a heavy, old-looking book beside her. Her bare feet were resting in the clear, shallow water.

"The lion," she murmured as her hand brushed a carving. Her finger delicately stroked the mane before moving on. "The eagle." She smiled, still with her eyes closed. "The serpent. The badger."

"Rowena?"

Talking of badgers …

Another woman, this one red-haired, appeared beside her. "Rowena, we need the Book. Do you not have the contents memorised by now anyway?"

A light frown crossed Rowena's face. "Does it matter?" She sat up. "Why do you need the Book? We have had no urgent need for it for over a thousand years."

Helga picked the heavy tome off of the ground. "I know. But the time's come, Rowena. Can you not tell from the water?"

Rowena looked at the lake, realising for the first time that ripples were crossing the surface in a pattern not made by the wind.

"The earth told me," Helga continued. "The powers are awakening again. The Elementals are here!"

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can do this." Helga made a wrist movement as if scooping ice cream, and a second later Rowena ducked as a ball of mud flew at her face.

Helga laughed, but her usual carefree self seemed to have been replaced by worry lines. "Come on Rowena, we have to do it now before it's too late!"

-----

Hermione let out a low groan. It was hard enough getting used to her own bed after a year of sleeping in the Gryffindor dormitory, it was even harder to get to sleep on a camp-bed with the springs digging into her ribs and the uneasiness of trying to lie on something that could snap together and crush her every time she moved. It was dawn, judging by the faint light seeping through the gap in the curtains. She moved her head to see the clock – half past six. Her clothes from the day before were hanging over the radiator, now dry.

The wallpaper in her aunt's house was faded and not very tasteful. Hermione, having nothing better to do, studied the bold patterns for a while before she heard stirrings from the next room.

A soft knock at the door was followed by her mother entering, looking tired. "Hermione, what are you doing awake at this hour?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm really sorry, Mum -"

"Sh, it's not your fault." Mrs Granger sat down on the floor in her pyjamas, facing her daughter. "Do you know what happened? I mean, your magic's done things by accident before but nothing like this."

"I know," Hermione said miserably. "I'd write to Hogwarts but all my stuff's drying out at home."

"Don't blame yourself, sweetheart," her mother murmured, brushing her bust hair out of her face. "I'm sure better witches than you have flooded bigger places than our small house."

"What are we going to do about insurance?" Hermione chewed her lip worriedly. "We can hardly prove it was an accident if we can't prove how it started."

"Maybe you should bring that up with your Head. Your aunt's got paper and pens, you can still write to him. If what you've said before is anything to go by, he should be able to sort something out."

Hermione squared her shoulders. "He'll be busy. Busier than normal. Last term left a lot of paperwork."

"Write to him, Hermione. Just try."

-----

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

I know you've got other things to deal with now but this is important to me and my family. Somehow – I don't know how – I managed to flood my home by magic. The water just came from nowhere. We're staying at my aunt's but our house is drying out and most of our things are ruined. We can't get things sorted with the Muggles because we can't explain how the flood started without exposing magic. I was hoping you might be able to help, but if you've got too many things on your plate I understand.

Hermione Granger

Albus sighed and turned to the next letter.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

I'm really sorry for bothering you but I think I'm losing control over my magic. That or someone's hexed me somehow. As strange as it may sound I seem to have developed magical green fingers (not literally, I mean in the gardening sense) overnight. Even stranger is that the Ministry haven't picked up on it, but before my second year I got a warning for the Hover Charm Dobby used. But, the real problem is I've grown a tree in my aunt's living room (it's now poking out of the roof and still growing). The neighbours have noticed and I think I'm going to be in big trouble once the Ministry find out. Could you help me please sir?

Harry Potter

"Oh dear," Albus murmured.

-----

"There's a pattern," Albus stated, pacing in front of Severus and Minerva. "Four wizards – or witches, sorry Minerva – all with a different themed power going haywire. Fire, Minerva. Air, Severus. Water, Hermione. And it looks like Harry's got Earth."

"The elements, Albus? But I've never heard of anything like this before!"

"I know," he replied, "but there's a first time for everything."

"No disrespect intended, Albus," Severus spoke up, "but don't you think you had better send someone over to Potter's with an axe before the Obliviator Squad – or, Merlin forbid, the Aurors – show up at Little Winging?"

"Send someone?" Albus replied dazedly. "Absolutely not. Until we figure out what is going on, we're keeping anyone else out of this. Grab your cloaks and I will be back in five minutes." With that he hurtled off in the direction of the library.

Minerva and Severus looked at each other and as one rolled their eyes.

-----

It was obvious without looking at the house numbers which one was the Dursleys'. A group of residents from the area and even what looked like a Muggle journalist were crowded around the fence, staring up at the roof. A lot of tiles were lying scattered on the lawn where they had fallen, and what had send them falling was poking through the roof. A cluster of branches and leaves, dotted with pretty flowers stretched to at least five feet above the chimney-pot.

A large man with a purple face was waving hard at the spectators. "Go away! Shoo, there's nothing to see here!"

The three Professors nudged their way through the crowd. Severus elbowed.

"Mr Dursley?" Albus inquired.

"Get lost! I'm not appearing in any ruddy newspaper article, just get off my -"

"Mr Dursley, we're here to fix your – er -" Albus glanced up at the tree. "problem – and then we need to speak to your nephew. Would you be so kind as the let me in?"

Vernon humphed but grudgingly held the door open for him. Severus and Minerva were left to do the memory modification.

-----

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_. Harry was lying on his back on his bed, his eyes focused somewhere around the branch poking through the dividing wall, bust scolding himself mentally for being so – well, stupid. Now not only had he risked exposure but had done so in a way that was classed as deliberate – he had willed that aster to grow on purpose. Obviously he hadn't wanted the damned thing to grow _this_ much, but that was irrelevant. He might as well break his wand in half now and save the Ministry the trouble. Maybe he could get a job as Hogwarts' gardener and work with Hagrid. He wouldn't even need his pink umbrella to speed the job up.

Harry jumped violently as a small explosion sounded from outside his door. He'd been trapped inside since yesterday – he'd woken to find the tree or whatever it was had branched out (bad pun) till a huge arm was preventing the door from opening. Happy to avoid the Dursleys' wrath (Vernon and Petunia hadn't been so lucky: their room now only had two and a half walls), he hadn't bothered trying to force his way out. But it sounded like someone was trying to force _their_ way _in_.

"Hello?"

There was a pause before a comfortingly familiar voice called out, "Harry?"

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry rushed to the door. "You got my letter?"

"I certainly did. Give me a minute and I will have this branch cleared."

Harry waited patiently, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Maybe he wouldn't be expelled after all. The thought cheered him up more than his happiness at finally being in contact with someone from the wizarding world. The long quiet had been torture.

An "Aha!" boosted his spirits even more. "All done, you can come out now," said Dumbledore cheerfully. Harry pushed the door open.

Although his yellow and usually spotless robes were covered in dust, Dumbledore looked the same as Harry had last seen him – tired, but with a twinkle in his eye nonetheless. The obstruction had disappeared and in its place was a pile of firewood.

"I didn't think it would be a good idea to try and Vanish something that size," Dumbledore said in answer to the unasked question. "Good afternoon, Harry. Have you received a letter from the Ministry yet?"

Harry shook his head. "Looks like I'm not going to now. Weird."

The news didn't seem to surprise Dumbledore. He looked down at the wood pile. "Unless I'm mistaken, what you're experiencing does not appear to be a ordinary outburst of magic – and probably not ordinary magic either. Maybe the Ministry cannot pick it up."

"What do you mean, sir? Not 'ordinary' magic? Magic is magic, isn't it?"

Dumbledore didn't answer right away. He stepped into Harry's room, took a quick look around, and turned back to face him.

"Whether it is or not," he said seriously, "we need to find out what is going on. Harry, pack your things."

Harry blinked. "Pack? What? Are we going somewhere?"

Dumbledore nodded. "First, to pay a visit to your friend Miss Granger – I believe she has been having similar experiences. Once we're all together we can find out more."

Harry wasn't quite sure what they could find out, but did as he was told.

"Where are my aunt and uncle?" he asked, heaving his trunk onto his bed and beginning to gather up everything he could.

"I believe your uncle is in the garden. I don't know where your aunt and cousin are." He paused thoughtfully. "I shall find them while you pack – you'll want to say goodbye."

"Don't bother -" Harry began, but Dumbledore had already left. He sighed and turned back to the desk, lifting Hedwig's cage off. The owl was out somewhere. He wasn't too worried, he doubted he would end up anywhere she'd never been. She could find him. She'd never lost her way before, after all.

Movement caught his eye and he looked down. Two familiar figures, one dressed in black and the other in green, were engaged in stamping out a small fire in the garden.

"Where do you think you're off to?"

Harry whirled around and found himself face-to-face with his uncle.

"Packing, Uncle Vernon."

Vernon put his head on one side. "Packing?" he said in a tone anyone less experienced would have taken to be polite. "Oh, no, boy. When someone packs it is usually because they wish to go somewhere, but you are not leaving this house until you've sorted your mess out!"

"Professor Dumbledore said he would do it. He's already cleared the branch outside my room."

"I can see that. And when he comes back from wherever-the-hell he is, you and he will go off happily without a care in the world, not to return until next summer, leaving us alone to deal with a bloody _tree_ in our house. No. You are staying here and you can tell that blasted man that you are, _is that clear?_"

Vernon had drawn closer and closer during his rant and Harry couldn't draw any further back. Although his uncle had rarely used physical violence, on "is that clear" he raised his fist and Harry panicked. Before he could duck the blow, he uncle stilled suddenly, making a horrible choking sound. Something – something green and leafy – was wound tightly around his neck, cutting off his air. Harry was frozen on the spot. He didn't know what to do. His magic was out of control – again.

A scream jerked him into action. Harry unfroze and reached out towards the plant strangling his uncle just as Dumbledore's voice shouted a spell and there was a snap as the plant broke. Vernon toppled backwards. Harry quickly removed the remains of the thick strand and paused. Vernon was very still.

"Is he dead?" Petunia whispered, her face white as she stood still in the doorway with her hands over her mouth. "Vernon!"

Dumbledore bent down and felt for a pulse. After a long minute he announced, "He's alive. But he will need an ambulance. I think his neck might be broken."

He looked up into Harry's eyes. Harry swallowed hard. This was all his fault. If he hadn't been so bloody scared of his uncle … He half-expected to see accusation in Dumbledore's eyes but instead he saw sympathy and understanding. After a moment Dumbledore stood.

"Petunia, telephone for an ambulance. Whatever you do, don't move him, you could make the injury worse. Right now Harry and I have some business to attend to but I will return tomorrow and sort out any questions your authorities might have." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"What happened?" she whispered. She looked up at Harry. "_What happened?_"

"It was an accident," Dumbledore said quietly. "Nothing more. Harry, leave your things here, I can pick them up later."

Harry nodded. He pulled his cloak out of his trunk, a Weasley jumper and his money bag. He checked his wand was in his pocket before nodding to Dumbledore that he was ready. The headmaster murmured a few last words to Petunia, handed her a paper of some sort and motioned for Harry to follow him. Harry glanced back at his aunt before following.

"Professor," he began as they started down the stairs, "I didn't -"

"I know," Dumbledore said gently. "I don't blame you Harry, and no-one else should. But you are not the only one experiencing these magic surges and we need to get to the bottom of this."

"How?"

"Professors McGonagall and Snape," Dumbledore answered, "have been having similar troubles and if the letter I received this morning is any indication, so is your friend Hermione. We are going to find her and then sort this out together. I've done a bit of research and I have only come up with one possibility …" He trailed off. They had reached the front door. Dumbledore opened it with a flick of his wand and held it open for Harry. As Harry hesitated, Dumbledore said gently, "I think you're better off not here at the moment, Harry."

He nodded and stepped out of the door.

**TBC …**

AN: Okay, this chapter was a bit darker. Let me know if you think I need to take the rating up to T. I got to the paragraph where he was being strangled and spent ten minutes trying to decide whether to kill him or not. In the end I didn't. But we'll see what happens to the Dursleys later.

**Next Chapter:** Hogwarts, a History


	3. Hogwarts, a History

**Summary:** One minute Harry's completely normal, the next he's grown a tree in his aunt's house. But he's not the only one experiencing unnatural magical abilities: Minerva's burnt her work to a crisp, Hermione's flooded her bathroom, Snape's created a mini tornado in the Great Hall and Albus is turning the sun on and off as easily as if it were a Muggle light switch. All of this is happening after Voldemort's return … Could the answer lie with the Founders, and can it be used to fight?

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter

-----

_**Last Chapter:**__Dumbledore bent down and felt for a pulse. After a long minute he announced, _"_He's alive. But he will need an ambulance. I think his neck might be broken … Petunia, telephone for an ambulance. Whatever you do, don't move him, you could make the injury worse. Right now Harry and I have some business to attend to but I will return tomorrow and sort out any questions your authorities might have._"

**Chapter Three: Hogwarts, a History**

Dumbledore owned a car. It wasn't flash but it was something to get from A to B when Muggle transport was best. He drove, with Professor McGonagall next to him in the front seat and Snape in the back. Harry was also in the back, leaning against the door and staring out of the window.

They were all quiet, absorbed in their own thoughts. Harry wondered what the other three were thinking. He wondered what was going on. Dumbledore said Professor McGonagall and Snape had been having similar experiences. Were they making plants grow all over the place too? Why was it happening? Harry's train of thought was cut off as Dumbledore, after rustling a map with one hand, stopped suddenly and reversed into a drive.

"Here we are," he said semi-cheerfully.

They were in a quiet neighbourhood in the middle of a road with ordinary houses, all pretty similar. Harry, remembering they were coming to see Hermione, opened the door and jumped out the moment Dumbledore had turned off the engine. The others followed suit.

"Which one's Hermione's?" Harry asked, looking round at the headmaster, now engrossed in reading a piece of notepaper. After a moment, he looked round and spotted a bright number Seventy-Five.

"Here," he pointed.

Harry and Professor McGonagall drew nearer. Peering through the windows, Harry saw that everything looked soaked through.

"It's going to take a tonne of drying spells to clear this one up, Albus," Professor McGonagall murmured quietly.

"No need," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "You and Severus can do it without wands."

Both teachers looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you can combine and control your recently discovered talents in order to dry out the Grangers' house," Dumbledore explained. "I'm sure they will be grateful."

Professor McGonagall and Snape looked at each other, as if wondering whether or not Dumbledore had gone mad. Dumbledore, meanwhile, strode to the front door and opened it. "Go ahead, there's no-one around. Harry and I will keep look-out."

"Albus, have you gone insane? How exactly are we supposed to _combine our talents?_"

"Easy! What can fire and air make?" At their blank expressions, he said patiently, "_Hot air_. What better to dry out a house?"

Ten minutes later Harry, perched on a garden wall absent-mindedly stroking someone's cat, saw exactly what Dumbledore meant. After a long struggle to control it, Professor McGonagall was creating fire in her hands and Snape was somehow producing a constant gush of wind, sweeping through the house. The two were standing in the hall, and the hot air was visibly drying out all the furnishings, like a hairdryer times a thousand.

"Oh my!"

Harry turned quickly and saw Hermione with a woman he vaguely recognised to be her mother, standing outside a similar house diagonally opposite hers.

"Harry! It's great to see you!" Hermione gave him a quick hug before turning to the teachers. "Professor, thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, mock-saluting, "although it's these two you have to thank. All finished?" he added as Snape and Professor McGonagall exited the house, looking exhausted.

Snape nodded. "It's all dried out. There should be no problem moving back inside now, Mrs Granger," he addressed Hermione's mother.

"Th-thank you," Mrs Granger stammered, grasping his hand in thanks. Snape's lip curled slightly but he didn't pull away.

"Hermione," Dumbledore said quietly, "the five of us need to talk. Perhaps in your garage?"

-----

Hermione was perched on the freezer, Snape was leaning against the wall with his arms folded and the usual sneer on his face, Harry was cross-legged on the floor and Professor McGonagall was sitting on the bonnet of Dumbledore's car, which the headmaster had just moved out of the way of the Grangers'. Dumbledore was pacing, a very old, worn book they couldn't see the title of under one arm.

"There's a pattern," he repeated for Harry and Hermione's sake. "Each of you is experiencing magical surges in the power of one of the classical elements: Fire, Earth, Air and Water. To my knowledge, something like this hasn't happened since the time of the Founders." He shifted his arm so they could see the title of the book he was holding and Hermione's face lit up. "I've been doing some research, and there's only one conclusion I could find … although there's still one or two gaps …"

Dumbledore placed the book gingerly down on a neat pile of cardboard boxes and they all drew closer.

"Wow," Hermione breathed. "Where did you get that from, Professor?"

"Is that the original edition?" Professor McGonagall breathed.

Dumbledore shook his head. "It's not the original, but it is one of the oldest copies in existence. I found it in a hidey-hold in the headmaster's office many years ago. It is the only copy in the world that contains this particular chapter …" Hermione seemed to be trying desperately to refrain from snatching the book out of Dumbledore's hands as he turned the yellowed pages of _Hogwarts, a History_, finally pausing on a page about the Founders. Everyone leaned in to get a better look.

There were carefully drawn, colour pictures of four people who Harry assumed were meant to be the Founders; they were wearing robes of their House colours and there was fire curling round Gryffindor, leaves round Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw was caught in a whirlwind and Slytherin stood before a tall wave of water. In the middle was a box of writing in neat, old-fashioned script. Dumbledore pushed his glasses further up his nose.

"According to this record," he said, "each of the Founders were granted the powers of one of the four classical elements. Gryffindor had Fire, Ravenclaw had Air, Slytherin had Water and Hufflepuff had Earth. In their later years they discovered that the powers were being passed down their family lines, but for some reason they stopped only a few generations down." He turned the page. "A legend was brought about that the powers were only dormant until their ancestors really needed them."

"When you say ancestors -" Snape started, but Professor McGonagall hushed him.

Dumbledore squinted down at the old pages. "The legend died out a long time ago, this is the only record of it. According to this book, and this book only, the element powers can only be re-awoken by their ancestors being in close contact at a time of serious threat."

"I'd say Voldemort's return is a pretty big threat," Harry observed.

"Exactly," Dumbledore agreed. "The ancestors would be known as the Elementals. Does anyone have any objections so far?"

Everyone looked at each other.

"Well, it sounds possible," Snape began slowly, "but what you're saying is that each of us is a descendant of a Founder?"

"That's precisely what I'm saying."

Harry frowned. "Voldemort's the heir of Slytherin. Does that mean he's got a power too?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "If there's more than one living descendant, only one would be picked. I don't know exactly how it would work out which to pick, but the book is quite clear on that part." He cleared his throat. "The only thing that doesn't add up is that there's supposed to be a fifth Elemental – a descendant of _all_ of the Founders. As of yet, there only seems to be four."

"Would the fifth Elemental have all four elements?"

"No – actually, it doesn't say what their power is, only that it's different to the others'." Dumbledore looked up at the light bulb in irritation. "Does that thing always flicker?"

Hermione nodded. "Always has to my knowledge. My mum keeps asking my dad to change it."

"Severus, could you light your wand?" Dumbledore asked, turning back to the book. A moment later the garage filled with a warm glow. "That's better."

"Er … Albus?"

"Yes?"

"I think we've found the fifth Elemental -"

-----

Somewhere in a different plane of existence, the Founders were watching. They stood in a ring with joined hands, silently viewing the scene that hung in the air inside the circle, like a hologram projection, only three-dimensional.

Godric nodded. "Now."

Sparks, like electricity, darted between their joined hands and up their bodies. The circle began to glow an indefinable colour – not white, not pink, not yellow or orange, but somehow a mixture of all four. The force flowing through them grew stronger and stronger, the sparks larger and quicker and brighter, culminating in a final flash, like lightning.

At that moment, all four whispered as one: "Quintessence!"

-----

Severus broke off in mid-sentence. The book had begun to glow. As they stared in amazement, it levitated off the table and hovered in the air, exactly in between the five of them. A crackling sound, like electricity, came from it and sparks of a strange colour began to shoot round it.

The force of impact was tremendous. Five lines of some sort of lightning-like power shot from the book and met with the five wizards. They rose a couple of feet into the air, all joined to the book still, the power surrounding them so they couldn't see each other.

Harry felt uncontrollable shudders run through his body. It seemed to melt, like thick liquid – like mud. His very core pulsated and heated and spread a strange coolness through right to the tips of his fingers. It was as if he were feeling life for the very first time.

Minerva was on fire. Whether she was literally or not she had no way of telling – like Harry, she couldn't see. Her insides were lava, her hands were flames and her eyes were hot embers. The heat was not unpleasant – it felt like a hot shower on a cold day, only magnified a million times.

Severus could feel the energy inside him spreading throughout his body like an iced drink on a hot day. He was spinning, as if being tossed by the wind, and he could feel the rush through his hair.

Hermione had been drenched, a refreshing cold that surrounded her and filled her whole self. Ice seemed to pierce her body, but it felt right somehow, painless – pleasant even.

Albus could only see white. Bright, white light, emanating from himself. All sense of time and space had vanished. He could no longer feel his hands, his feet, his fingers, his ears, anything individual – he was nothing but a glowing ball of white fire.

It was impossible to tell how long it lasted – it seemed to stretch forever. Eventually, as one, the earth, fire, air, water and light sensations drained away, and all five felt cold concrete beneath their feet again. It took a moment for their eyes to all adjust to normal.

They looked at each other and gasped.

**Review Responses**

**Lizzi:** As this chapter reveals, yes, there _are_ five.

**GraveDigger Resurrection:** I've put it up to a T.

Thanks also to **ImSoMMAD** and **Satyah** for reviewing! (sorry, not a lot of time on my hands, I'll write more next time)


	4. Quintessence

**Summary:** One minute Harry's completely normal, the next he's grown a tree in his aunt's house. But he's not the only one experiencing unnatural magical abilities: Minerva's burnt her work to a crisp, Hermione's flooded her bathroom, Snape's created a mini tornado in the Great Hall and Albus is turning the sun on and off as easily as if it were a Muggle light switch. All of this is happening after Voldemort's return … Could the answer lie with the Founders, and can it be used to fight?

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter

-----

_**Last Chapter**__ Five lines of some sort of lightning-like power shot from the book and met with the five wizards _…_ They looked at each other and gasped._

**Chapter Four: Quintessence**

"I'm the same," a baffled Harry said, turning to Hermione. "You?"

She nodded shakily. "Not them, though."

They both grinned, watching the other three examine themselves and each other. Professor Snape looked disgusted, Professor McGonagall shocked and Professor Dumbledore highly amused.

Except the titles of "Professor" suddenly didn't seem to fit the three teenagers.

All three previous adults now looked no older than fifteen, sixteen at the most. The robes they'd been wearing had shrunk with them. Professor McGonagall was shorter than the other two, only about Harry's height. Dumbledore looked the most odd in comparison – where an old, long-haired and bearded man had been a moment ago, now stood a tall, clean-shaven adolescent with his chin-length auburn waves ruffled all over the place.

"Severus?" Professor McGonagall said faintly, looking at the lanky boy with shoulder-length dark hair. "Is that you?"

"Minerva?" he said, equally shocked. He leaned to one side to see past her, and their mouths both fell open as they saw the redhead. "_Albus?_"

The young Albus Dumbledore grinned. "I feel like a teenager again!"

"You _are_ a teenager again, Albus."

"I know! It feels brilliant!"

Harry and Hermione couldn't help it: they both burst out laughing. Professor McGonagall's face broke into a smile. "Albus, you look ridiculous."

"Come on Minerva, you can't tell me you've never wanted to be school age again?"

"Certainly not!" she replied haughtily, but there was a mischievous spark in her eyes nonetheless. "What about you, Severus? How does it feel to be fifteen again?"

"What the hell is going on?" was Snape's only response.

"Good point. Albus?"

"No idea!"

Snape rolled his eyes. "You're helpful. Has having over a century lopped off your age deprived you of your genius?"

The young Dumbledore stuck his tongue out cheekily. Harry had a stitch from laughing so hard at them and was having to lean on Hermione to keep himself upright. Hermione's eyes, however, were on _Hogwarts, a History_.

"Er … Professors?" she said hesitantly. "Look."

Everyone turned their heads to where the book had fallen down to the floor. It was glowing again. Before anyone else could comment, the same bolts of magic shot out and linked them all again, and the garage dissolved before their eyes.

-----

Grass whammed into Harry's face and he choked, struggling to sit up with a weight on top of him. Whoever had landed on his back apologised and rolled off. Harry fumbled for his glasses, wiped mud and grass blades off his face and sat up.

"Where are we?" Professor McGonagall breathed.

"I don't know. Wands out," Dumbledore instructed firmly, all traces of the humour in his face gone.

The question remained unanswered as all five of them stared at their surroundings. Wherever _Hogwarts, a History_ had transported them to (how/why that had happened was a mystery in itself), it was beautiful. A stretch of water, as blue as the Pacific and as sparkling as if it were encrusted with diamonds, lay to their right. It was impossible to tell from their angle if it was a lake or a slow-running river. Tiny waves lapped gently against the side of an overhanging rock, on which stood the edge of the densest and greenest forest Harry had ever laid eyes on. In the distance, through a thin mist, were beautiful, snow-capped mountains. There was not a cloud in the sky, yet the sun was nowhere in sight.

"It's …" Hermione trailed off. There were no words to describe the breath-taking view before them.

"Did the book say anything about this?" Harry turned to Dumbledore. "Actually, that's a point. Where did it book go?"

"It's not here," Snape said slowly, speaking for the first time. "It must still be in the garage."

"So how do we get back?" Hermione demanded.

Professor McGonagall turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, do you have any idea what's going on?"

For a moment he didn't answer. Finally he said slowly, "It said something about being summoned."

"Summoned? By who?"

"I don't know, it left that part out."

She responded with a sound of frustration. "Great. Perfect. What do we do now?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking."

"You should have put up a sign," Snape muttered.

"Shut up, Severus."

"Right," Dumbledore continued, ignoring the other teachers' banter. "It makes sense that whatever is happening here is related to what we just figured out."

Snape snorted. "Obviously."

"So, if whatever is behind this is a person – or people – then it has to be someone who knows all about this and that it's us."

"Albus, you are stating the obvious here," Professor McGonagall ground out impatiently.

"Just thinking out loud, my dear. So … that narrows it down to …"

Here he paused. There was a strange look in his eye Harry had never seen before. It was entirely possible that the look was just because he'd suddenly turned fifteen from a hundred and fifty, but it could also be a sign of his mind working out a solution.

"Four people."

"What?"

"It narrows it down to four people. That is, assuming we are no longer on our own plane of existence – which, looking at the sky, seems to be the case."

Harry glanced up. He had noticed, but not thought about, the lack of sun. Just as he was trying to piece together Dumbledore's conclusion, someone screamed and grabbed his arm.

"It's just a snake, Minerva," Snape remarked.

"I – don't – like – snakes," Professor McGonagall muttered as Harry prised her off his arm.

"Er, Professor?" Hermione said hesitantly. Dumbledore was kneeling down

"_I apologise for the fright I seem to have given your friend, young Speaker_," the snake hissed.

Harry was just opening his mouth to reply that it was all right – Professor McGonagall had calmed down and let go, but was hovering warily behind him – but someone beat him to it.

"_You just startled her_." Dumbledore paused. "_Could you tell us where we are?_"

The snake drew nearer, and slid its forked tongue delicately over Dumbledore's hand. "_You are of my Master's blood_."

"_Who is your master?_"

"_And yet you taste also of the others. You are the Leader_."

"_I don't understand you_," Dumbledore said frowning.

"_You are not the only Speaker here_."

The snake's eyes turned on Harry, and he crouched low like Dumbledore had done.

"_You are the Son of Earth, and yet you possess an ability of Water?_"

"_Pardon?_"

The snake tasted his own hand. Harry repressed a shiver at the touch.

"_It is not a mistake. The Power of the Speakers has been mixed up. This was not part of the Four's plan_."

"_Without wishing to sound rude,_" Harry tried to keep the impatience out of his voice, "_would you mind not speaking in riddles?_"

Dumbledore gave him a warning look, but the snake laughed – at least, that's what Harry deemed it to be.

"_Son of Earth, all your questions shall be answered when you find the Four. I was sent to lead you to them._"

Harry glanced sideways at Dumbledore, who nodded.

"_All right. Just give us a minute, okay?_" The snake nodded. Harry stood and looked round at the others.

"Excuse the language," he said in English, "but in the absence of Ron I feel I must say: What the bloody hell was that all about?"

Professor McGonagall gave a weak smile, but Snape and Hermione were looking at Dumbledore in complete shock.

"You're a Parselmouth?" Snape exclaimed disbelievingly.

Dumbledore nodded. "It's not one of my more publicised talents."

"But -"

"Let's leave the interrogation for later, shall we?" Professor McGonagall interrupted. "Albus, what did it say?"

"It wants us to follow it. Apparently 'the Four' sent it to lead us to them."

"You really think it's going to lead us to the Founders?" Snape murmured quietly. "Albus, I don't like this."

"Well, we have two choices," Hermione cut in. "We could follow the snake and get some answers or try and find our own way out of here. Anyone want to put it to the vote?"

"All _right_," Snape snapped, "we follow the bleeding reptile. Just remember _I_ was the voice of reason, all right?"

"No need to snap, Professor," Hermione replied, sounding hurt. "I was only trying to point out that we don't seem to have much of an option."

Dumbledore cleared his throat before Snape could reply. "I think we all agree trying to get some answers is our only option."

"Fine," Snape muttered. Harry and Professor McGonagall both nodded.

The forest was not as dense as it appeared on first glance – there was plenty of room to move between the trees. The mysterious light outside was dimmer in here, so everything looked green, even their hands in front of their faces. The slight breeze from outside didn't penetrate the greenery: the air was completely still.

Dumbledore led the way after the snake. Snape and Hermione, seemingly driven on by curiosity, followed shortly behind. Harry and Professor McGonagall were a little more reluctant. She was jittery and he was just thinking about the Forbidden Forest, and the sort of creatures Hagrid liked, and hoping they wouldn't end up as dinner.

They came to a clearing, and Dumbledore stopped dead, causing the other four to walk into him. Harry gaped.

Four adults – two men and two women – stood before them. They looked solid, but were all letting off a mild glow around the edges.

"It can't be," Dumbledore whispered.

The first man wore a very old-fashioned robe of rich red, with golden trimming and an under-robe in sunset orange. The sight, combined with his wild black hair and beard, was quite dazzling. Harry had to squint to look at him.

The other man was decked in emerald green and pale blue, with silver trimming. His eyes were a brilliant blue and his hair was tamed, golden brown and long, hanging down to his shoulders. His face gave the impression of a very shrewd man.

The first woman was dressed in a silken gown of canary yellow and grass green, with black trimming. She wore a friendly smile that lit up her pretty, freckled face and her hair was a dark auburn.

The last woman was dressed all in different shades of blue, with bronze trimming, and her dark brown hair was pinned up, emphasising the serious personality reflected in her sharp features, but her eyes sparkled nonetheless.

It was Godric Gryffindor who spoke first.

"The time has come."

**TBC …**

AN: Okay, last chapter I said 'ancestors' three times when I meant descendants. I'm sure you all realised that was what I meant. Nevertheless I shall correct that tomorrow, when my eyes are not closing.  
**  
**Thanks to **Wulfric Gryffindor, Mystiksnake** and **rosiegirl** for reviewing!


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